They had found him and he had no idea how, nor the luxury of time to ponder that right now. The only thing to do was run, and hope that luck was on his side this time, just once more. Blind panic gripped him as he plunged forward, heedless of where he was going, just knowing that he couldn't go back, he just couldn't. Not again, he couldn't survive it. There was no fight left in him anymore, better to die out here than that.

Sounds of the pursuit were muffled by his own laboured breathing and the pounding of his heart, which thudded in his ears and somewhere in his awareness was the acknowledgment that he was woefully out of condition, which added further to the shame that was now his constant companion. Pausing for a moment to try and catch his breath, he closed his eyes and tried to gain control over his breathing and then opened them to ensure no cars were coming and dashed across the empty road into what he hoped was the relative safety and cover that the forest could offer. With nothing to slow him down, no DSA case, only the clothes on his back, and the gun safely nestled in the back of his waistband, its weight a comfort, he thought he just might have a chance. He would kill them all if he had to. Maybe save one bullet for himself.

As the darkness of the trees closed around him, blocking out most of the ghostly light the full moon had provided, he slowed his pace, mindful of the fact that a simple fall could end him. A stumble resulting in a sprained ankle would be enough to hobble him and make escape impossible. It was hard to tell how many there were, and his best guess were at least four, probably more. So his chances of dropping them all were small and he didn't think he was capable of taking them all out in his present condition, with the poor visibility. If there were more, gunshots would only alert them to his position. Perhaps it would be easier to just use the gun on himself, that would be better than being taken. Jarod had no idea how things could be worse than last time, but he didn't doubt for a second they would be.

 Pulling the gun out from behind his back, he felt the familiar comfort of its weight, and took a brief moment to imagine how it would feel to put a bullet right between Cox's eyes, not that he would be blundering through a dark forest on such a cold night. Oh no, that wasn't his style at all, he would be waiting back in the warmth of a town car, coldly directing the pursuit like a general far removed from the battlefield. Jarod had never hated anyone with as much ferocity as he hated Cox, not even Lyle or Raines, and he knew he should hate Lyle above all others. Lyle had been the one who killed his brother, Lyle had tortured him, and worst of all Lyle had befriended him, made him think he cared for him. Lyle had broken him.

Anger fuelled him and gave him a burst of renewed energy, and he relished in the feel of it, the absoluteness of it. It was the only feeling that was more powerful, more seductive than the numbness he sought so desperately. Black had become white and white black in his world, and this was the one thing he could hang onto, the one thing he was sure about and he clung to that hate like a drowning man who had been thrown a lifeline. Anger was safe, anger was pure and really it was all that was left for him now.

Torchlight pierced the darkness, bobbing up and down, and now he saw that there were at least 10 separate beams and he could hear the low static of radios. They had certainly pulled out all the stops this time, no small pursuit team, almost guaranteeing he could elude them easily, as he almost always had. The world had changed though and the game wasn't the same, and he guessed the only thing that really surprised him was that it had taken them this long to figure it out. Sydney and Miss Parker weren't running things anymore, all the players had changed, and so had the rules. The cocky confidence he had once felt that he would get away or that they wouldn't actually hurt him was long gone. This was life and death now, there was no turning back from what had happened. Consequences.

Taking another moment to catch his breath and to try to formulate some kind of plan as opposed to just blindly running forward, Jarod tried to find that place in himself that was still and calm, so he could think clearly, without fear and desperation clouding his every thought. It was becoming apparent he wasn't going to be able to outrun them, so that left only hiding. There were just too many to overpower, even if he managed to make every shot count. Looking up at the gigantic redwoods, he saw that even the lowest branches were well out of his reach, so going up wasn't going to be an option, not without the right gear. Perhaps though, he might be able to go in, some of these giant trees had hollows and if he could just find one, then he might be able to hide and wait until they passed, double back around behind them and make his getaway in one of their own cars.

Steadying his breathing, Jarod crouched down and watched the swords of light as the search party moved forward, a little alarmed at how organised and systematic they were. Their incompetence had saved him on more than one occasion. Moving more slowly now, he started to circle back around, trying to get behind them, knowing if he went too deep into the woods he might die of exposure. As it was, he would be lucky to find his way back out, except for direction so kindly illuminated by his pursuers.

When Jarod had his breath back, he looked around and planned his movements with far more consideration and no more blundering. If he was going to get out of this, he would need his wits about him, and blind panic wasn't helping. The light beams moved forward, slowly and methodically, stopping at intervals to listen and as they moved forward, Jarod  started circling back around, intending to make his way back to the road, moving very carefully, feeling a little more in control of himself once again, relieved he had a plan, although it wasn't much of one, but the best he could manage right now. His pretender skills were rusty and he needed to address that, get himself back on track, not to mention get back in shape too. It was frightening just how out of condition he had let himself become. Perhaps this wake up call was exactly what he needed to jolt himself back to his current reality.

Jarod became aware of the threat only moments before it was upon him. A slight noise in the woods ahead of him made him freeze, his heart rate racing once again as he stood perfectly still, listening intently, searching for any sign of a sweeper, or if it was just his exhausted mind playing tricks on him.

He heard something whispered and a small sound of static and knew someone had just reported in, but couldn't see anybody, nor any flashlight, and hoped fervently that he was still in the clear. A moment later it became crystal clear that they had found him and he started running again, his instincts kicking in and refusing to believe it was hopeless. It wasn't until a heavy body crashed into him, knocking him to the ground that he realised just how close they had been. His gun went flying, landing somewhere in the dark and he swore under his breath as he felt the weight of a large body pinning him, making it even harder to breathe, before he had even started to try and get back on his feet.

"No, no," he hissed as he struggled but soon found his arm twisted painfully up his back and tears of anger and despair pricked in his eyes as he stilled himself, his chest heaving trying to suck in air.

"Move again and I will break it," a voice warned him, warm and calm and someone he didn't recognise, right against his ear, and Jarod knew that this was no idle threat. The days of him believing he was protected against any real harm were long gone. Those were lessons he had learnt the hard way and would never be forgotten.

They were swarming around him now, all the flashlights moving in on his position. Then there was another pair of hands that hauled him to his knees, his arm still twisted painfully up his back and  an arm like a band of steel snaked around his neck, pulling him against the man that had just taken him down, holding him fast.

Caught. After all of this time on the run again, he was caught, and as his emotions swirled, he realised what he felt above all else was relief. It was over and he had no fight left in him this time. As this realisation hit him, his body relaxed a little, all the adrenaline that had fuelled his mad flight seemed to have dissipated and he just felt exhausted and resigned, defeated. There was no point in resisting, and maybe that was okay. It was so hard to fight for everything all of the time, so exhausting and why? What had it ever achieved? Maybe Miss Parker had been right from the beginning, this was how the damn story went, he did belong back in his cage, she would be pissed though she wasn't the one to put him there this time.

The small crowd around him parted, and Lyle sauntered forward, looking very out of place in his expensive suit in the woods. Stopping just in front of Jarod, he looked down on the kneeling man and smiled. Jarod didn't want to look at him, wanted to strike out and kill him, or at the very least hurt him with carefully chosen words, hurt him in the same way he had been hurt. The unseen sweeper still holding his hair, forced his head up, holding him firmly in place and it was impossible not to look at Lyle. Add something about his shiny shoes all being scuffed. That face had become so familiar, stirred up so many unresolved emotions. His eyes travelled up to his left ear, seeing the neat white bandage over it and felt some satisfaction as Lyle seemed to wince, and stop himself from touching it. Something flickered in his eyes but Jarod couldn't read them. Lyle had fooled him so badly that Jarod doubted he would ever understand how he could have allowed it to happen. How he could have been so monumentally stupid.

"Time to go home Jarod," Lyle said with surprising gentleness, no trace of the usual smugness in his voice, although even in the unsteady light, Jarod could see the smallest of smiles twitch at the corner of his mouth.

Whether that twitch was suppressed mirth or something else, he didn't know, and it probably didn't matter anyway. Nothing he said or did, or figured out right now was going to be worth a damn in changing his situation. Those beautiful blue eyes could be so cold, or so charming and full of humour and warmth, even pain, but it was hard to tell just what those eyes held now.

He should have used the gun.

Jarod couldn't see Cox anywhere and wondered if the alliance between Cox and Lyle had survived his escape, or had they fallen over themselves trying to blame each other, and make a mad dash for the coveted Chair? Even though Cox had appeared to be in charge, Jarod sometimes wondered if that were actually the case or not. It was rare that Lyle got anything right, but he had managed to fool and manipulate Jarod with an ease that was terrifying, and humiliating.

"Cuff him," Lyle drawled, and watched impassively as if he had no further interest in the proceedings.

Sam approached, dangling a pair of handcuffs from his outstretched finger, with an all too familiar grin on his face. Sam was a man who definitely enjoyed his work and since he had been answering to Lyle, didn't have to hold back. Jarod had been so much fun to play with, but always ended up making a fool of them in the end. Things were going to be different this time.

Jarod couldn't help but remember how gentle he was with his children, how tender with his wife, and the man that stood before him now had to be an evil twin. How could two such different people reside in the same body? Was Jarod wrong to have spared him? Had he let sentimentality make him even more weak and gullible than he already was? Jarod watched him in snorted a brief and bitter laugh. It didn't matter, not really. If it wasn't Sam, it would be another. The face they wore didn't change what they did, how they behaved. That persistent voice that still plagued him, softly accented, whispered that he had done the right thing. Nothing would be gained by destroying that family and he would regret it forever. Jarod couldn't help but think that what the hell difference did one more regret make?

The arm around Jarod's throat disappeared, to be replaced by a firm and painful grip in his hair, holding him just as firmly in place on his knees. Now there was some irony for you and as Jarod looked at Lyle, he saw him on his knees too, bleeding, shocked as the realisation had hit him. Had that only been a few days ago? A few more inches and he would have never had to see those brilliant blue eyes again.

It was much easier to breathe once again and he was finding himself grateful for that small mercy. Dragging himself out of the memory, he focused back on Lyle now, his half missing ear. What the hell had he been thinking? Just a few inches.

"You always looked good in chains," Sam's gruff voice was warm against Jarod's ear as he locked Jarod's wrists in the cuffs behind his back, a little tighter than was strictly necessary. With the other sweeper holding his hair firmly, there wasn't even a token fight Jarod could put up. Sam then moved to his feet and shackled his ankles together, effectively hobbling him. It looked like they were taking no chances, despite the phalanx of men that surrounded him. That gave him some satisfaction. They were scared of him now. It also worked against any hope of making a miraculous getaway, so who was the joke really on?

Jarod half expected the hood to come next and tried to brace himself for the utter feeling of helplessness that came with being hooded. It was an unreasonable fear, a phobia, after all, they could do whatever they wanted to him either way, as they had so definitively demonstrated time and time again. The hood changed nothing and changed everything.

Resisting was pointless anyway, and Jarod once would have fought it even though he knew it would do no good, but not anymore. The lesson that resistace was futile had been an extremely difficult and painful one for Jarod, and not quickly forgotten. The sheer presence of Sam's bulk was intimidating enough without the cascade of memories that threatened to flood in of Sam's role in Jarod's ‘re-education'. That insane feeling of relief and numbness was almost comforting in comparison, and he wanted to hang onto it against the building tide of terror that was starting to creep up on him. It was better to feel nothing at all, just to accept than to fight the good fight. He didn't want to think about being underground again, being in a cell, every part of his life monitored and controlled. The pain and even worse, the aching loneliness. It had been bad enough before, but now they were in his head too, he didn't even have the privacy of escaping into his thoughts... Lyle was there too.

"Get him back to the car," Lyle barked, watching Jarod closely, nothing of what he was feeling showing on his face. Lyle wasn't even sure himself of just what he was feeling right now. Smug vindication was certainly some of it, but there was something else too, something he didn't want to examine too closely. There was no doubt in his mind that Jarod hadn't killed him on purpose. Jarod wouldn't have missed. He had managed to eliminate Raines with the precision of a true master. What he didn't understand yet was why. The why was very important and Lyle understood that it was somehow the key to moving forward, to his ultimate success. It bothered him greatly though to know how close he had come and that Jarod had gifted him with his life, and he doubted it was out of mercy.

Nearly half a year tracking him down, the recent close call, and now that they had finally caught him, it all seemed somehow disappointing, a little anticlimactic. Hell, Jarod had hardly even put up a fight. Where was the fun in that? Despite himself, he touched his injured ear, which still throbbed painfully and his balance wasn't quite right yet, and tried to conjure the anger back, this was his moment and his redemption. This was going to secure him the Chair, finally. This was his time. This introspection bullshit could wait until things were secured and Jarod was safely and securely back home. Then he would worry about what was what.

They lifted him to his feet, tight grips digging cruelly into his arms, bruising, just like they had done a thousand times before. Jarod could feel the despair growing, consuming him, the numbness and relief overwhelmed now and he so desperately wanted it back. Now they had truly taken everything, when he thought there was nothing more they could take. Wrong again.

He let out an anguished howl that seemed to come right from his soul. Centre Property. "Noooooooo!"